The Dog
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I use to hear the scratch of the leaf on the door
and think it was my dog wanting to be let in
halfway to the door, I would remember
that the dog had died
now I hear the sound of the tire on the gravel
and think it is my love coming home at day's end
halfway to the door, I remember
that the love has left
I realize that I'm the dog
awaiting the return
that isn't coming